


it's just beyond those trees (the place i've been dreaming of)

by sakurasgf (sanacult)



Category: Naruto
Genre: 5+1 Things, Angst, M/M, Minor Character Death, Unhappy Ending, as bad as naruto wounds can get, there are slight descriptions of blood
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-05-21
Updated: 2020-05-21
Packaged: 2021-03-03 04:40:47
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,504
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/24299008
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/sanacult/pseuds/sakurasgf
Summary: Five times the forest called Hashirama, and the one where it picked someone else.
Relationships: Senju Hashirama/Uchiha Madara
Comments: 4
Kudos: 38





	it's just beyond those trees (the place i've been dreaming of)

**Author's Note:**

> as im posting this its 5am and i spent the whole night finishing this and crying. yes theres flower symbolism but only because i havent done it since my 2014 haikyuu fics and i wanted to feel like a cliche wattpad author again. enjoy.

The first time the forest calls for him, Hashirama is twelve. 

It's a sunny afternoon, he just finished sparring with his father, and he wants nothing more than to cool off. The forest blows a weak wind towards him. _Go_ _west_ it says, and it's so inviting, so quiet, so _friendly_ that Hashirama follows. 

The trees are hovering over him, massive and powerful, demanding respect from anyone that looks up at them for having been there before his clan stepped foot near this territory, like the gods the old folk often talk about. But they aren't frightening, don't threaten to wrap their roots around his body and punish him for stepping into their space, don't try to rearrange the landscape so he won't go back. Instead, they clear the path in front of him and keep any of the animals that could harm him away. Their spirits keep guiding him, invisible hands holding his as if leading a child through darkness, until Hashirama spots a river. 

The spirits disappear once he steps foot on the rocks, and he knows this is the place they wanted him to reach. So he looks around, and he spots a black haired boy probably his age. There's a fierce aura surrounding him, and hashirama immediately knows he's a force to be reckoned with. But there is also sadness somewhere deep within him, the kind Hashirama knows already. _Maybe_ _they're similar._ He doesn't know how he could sense all of that, but he guesses the forest took a liking to him, that it lent him some of its power. The old folk talked about that too, about the ancient elements and spirits picking humans they think of as worthy of their blessings throughout the centuries. Hashirama accepts his fate and hopes he won't betray the forest's trust. He stares at the boy again. 

_Go,_ the forest says. _He's the one._

He doesn't know what it means just yet, but the forest doesn't mean any harm, that he knows for sure. So he listens. The spirits know more about fate than he could ever imagine, after all. 

And meeting Madara truly feels like destiny planned it for them eons ago. First thing that comes to his mind when they exchange a short conversation is that Madara has a connection to the water; and the more they spend time together, he's sure of it. Madara's calm on the surface, collected, cold, logical. But when frustration or sadness speak through him, he's an unstoppable force. Hashirama can't count how many times he's seen smaller rocks crack with a small, thick stream taken from the side of the river near Madara when he lost their sparring match or when he had a fight with his brother. When they clash their kunais or train simple hand to hand combat, he can feel something _boiling_ inside the other boy. 

He wonders if the water already told Madara the same thing the forest said, if he knows it's not an accidental meeting. He hopes they can become friends for life. Reach their dreams together. 

_It won't be easy,_ the forest whispers faintly, but Hashirama chooses not to listen. He doesn't believe anything can go wrong with Madara. 

Geranium grows at his feet when he's running back home.

* * *

The second time he hears the forest, Hashirama is seventeen. 

It's a warm summer evening and he's trying out new techniques with his sword. The wind it blows towards him isn't weak or calm anymore. It's strong enough to make his cheeks red from the pressure it puts on his skin and it tells him to _hurry up._

The first time, spirits led him to Madara. They led him every single time, to the river and back, tried to keep Tobirama away, tried to stop the fight between their fathers. Hope starts building up in his heart again. It's been so _long_ since he's seen the Uchiha. They haven't even crossed weapons on the battlefield, a silent oath made by the river when they first started training together, to not hurt each other no matter what happens to them. 

Maybe they're given a second chance. 

He runs, his hair getting into his face and blocking his vision, but he's gotten better at reading the ground, feeling the roots underneath the surface, creating an image of a path in his head. Nature is soaking into him, grass growing greener and flowers of all colors blooming around him. His borrowed power and the forest are merging into one, strengthening him. The invisible touch of spirits fades away at some point, as if they can't keep up with him, but he doesn't notice. All he can think about is the river and finding Madara there. About a fresh start. 

It's only thanks to the chakra control on his feet that he doesn't trip and fall as soon as he steps onto the rocks. He looks at Madara at the same time Madara looks at him, and when they lock eyes, something inside Hashirama _screams._ He can barely sense the water that used to be overflowing in him. It's replaced by a fierce fire instead, and all the times when he thought Madara was boiling during their fights suddenly make sense. Of course he knew that the Uchiha clan mostly operated with the fire style, but he never thought Madara would be so filled with it. Madara, who was picked by the river's spirit. 

But it's still _Madara_ , his closest friend, picked for him by fate herself. So he comes closer, and the dangerous heat in Madara's eyes dies down to the friendly warmth of a bonfire. Hashirama takes a seat an arm's reach away and fixes his gaze onto the river.

"You'll be in trouble if we get found here," Madara whispers, and it hits Hashirama just how _much_ he missed him. 

"You will as well." 

Madara laughs. "My father trusts me enough to not send Izuna after me. yours however… I wouldn't be surprised if your little brother was hiding somewhere here right now." He picks up a rock and throws it into the nearest bush. A rabbit jumps out, and runs into the forest. 

"The forest would let me know if he was following me." 

"You're still caught up on that? It's time you stopped relying on the spirit's power, Hashirama. Find your own."

"I _made_ this strength my own." Madara knows there's no room for further discussion, so he drops the subject. 

"Have you been doing well?" This time he looks directly at Hashirama. The latter smiles. It feels like no time has passed between them, like those four years without each other were just an illusion. Madara still has the playful glint in his eyes, and one corner of his lips is slightly quirked up. Hashirama lets himself take a closer look at his face, and how much he's changed from the boy he knew before. His features are sharper now, with dark circles under his eyes. His hair is longer, almost reaching his lower back, and Hashirama has to fight the urge to run his hand through it. 

In short, Madara got handsome, and Hashirama was staring at him without an answer for too long, because the Uchiha clears his throat after some time. 

"As good as one can during the war. I guess you've been doing well yourself?" Madara nods. Before he can think about it, Hashirama opens his mouth again. "I missed you." 

Madara's eyes widen. The fire is back for a quick second, and then it fades away completely. "We're not children anymore, Hashirama."

And Hashirama knows. In time, they'll be clan leaders, and there will be no running away from fights anymore. But he wants to believe they'll avoid it somehow, that better times are waiting for them. He doesn't say it. He knows what Madara will respond with, anyway. 

"Madara…" he starts, and doesn't know what to say after that. Doesn't even know why he said something in the first place; maybe he just likes how Madara's name sounds. "I truly wish it was different. That we could stand on the same side of the battlefield. Maybe one day we will be able to accomplish this naive dream of mine." He stands up and heads towards the trees again, when there's a hand on his wrist. It burns him; fire and wood don't go together. But then he pictures Madara's face and it feels more like warming your hands in front of a fire in winter. 

Madara's so close to him that his breath tickles Hashirama's cheek. "Take care of yourself." Before he can react, the Uchiha is gone, leaving him standing still with one foot on the rocks and the other on the forest floor. There's a weird feeling in his heart, as if it was being held so tightly it may explode, while also feeling so _light,_ like all worries have left him. 

_He still cares,_ the wind cools his skin, carrying the smell of azaleas. _There's still hope._

* * *

The third time it happens, Hashirama is twenty and doesn't even register it's the forest. 

It's the middle of the night, right after a particularly tough battle. Hashirama hasn't seen a battlefield painted with so much blood in a long time. He wants— _needs_ to calm himself down, to get rid of the images his brain is showing him. Of his clan, of the ones that he couldn't save. Of his first failure as a leader. 

As soon as steps into the forest, everything fades away. The wind sweeps away the memories of the bloodied bodies, laying still with fear in their foggy eyes. His mind feels like the tree trunks are blocking any negative thoughts. There is nothing but the sound of leaves rustling, crickets having a concert in the tall grass, owls gliding above in search of food. It’s all a static sound to him, a white noise. The dark sky keeps a watch over him, making sure he doesn’t wander off to the places where even those favoured by spirits shouldn’t be. 

But there’s no need for that, since there is only one place that he’ll ever go to to feel safe. The only one when he can truly be himself.

But when he gets there, instead of the calm stream of the river and silence, the water is tinted red, and someone is grunting in the distance. Hashirama immediately tenses up. _Madara. H_ e calls out, and the grunts disappear. _Of_ _course._ He lets the spirits guide him, hoping that whatever is waiting for him, it’s nothing serious. If what he’s seen earlier managed to make him so upset, Madara getting hurt was ten times worse. And he knows he shouldn't feel like this; he’s been trained not to react to violence since he was a child, and ever since he became the clan’s head every Uchiha shouldn’t matter to him. 

_You’re not your father,_ a comforting voice whispers at the back of his head. _You’re_ _allowed to mourn._

He finally spots Madara, and his heart sinks. His armour is thrown to the side, a dark stain on his undershirt. Hashirama notes it’s close to the stomach and starts running towards him. That’s the only regret he can’t allow himself to have. Madara looks up when his knees hit the rocks, and wants to say something, when he coughs up blood.

“Don’t talk.” Hashirama’s hands glow green, illuminating their faces. Madara’s face is even paler than usual, the drops of blood on his chin looking like poppies blooming in snow. “How did you manage to get hurt so badly?” There was no possible way that someone could get close to Madara in battle and wound him, unless they were as quick as him. And after him and Hashirama, the only person who had advantage of speed and time was… _No._

He doesn’t let himself dwell on it, instead puts all his strength into healing Madara. He hasn’t used this much chakra in years, but as the green light gets bigger, the wound gets smaller, so he makes sure to use as much of it as possible. 

“You figured it out, didn’t you?” Madara’s voice is hoarse. Hashirama stares. “Don’t worry, I won’t vomit blood anymore.” The wound finally closes, and Hashirama sighs with relief. No vital organs were harmed, and thanks to Madara’s stamina and amount of chakra, he’ll be back to normal in no time. 

“It won’t mean a lot coming from me instead of him, but I’m sorry. If I knew—"

"What are you saying? Apologizing for doing what he's _supposed_ to? If any other Senju saw me like this, they'd finish me off, Hashirama."

Hashirama _knows._ He truly wishes he didn't. 

"But I'm not any other Senju." Madara notices how the trees seem to grow even taller, fueled by Hashirama's frustration. "And… I _care_ about you, Madara." The words catch both of them off guard. There's a moment of silence during which Hashirama notices how much closer he got while healing Madara. He doesn't remember how long it's been since they were able to sit like this, ever since that fatal day when they were children. 

Something like a chuckle escapes Madara's mouth. "You've always been naive." Then he smiles, the kind that Hashirama grew so fond of. "Thank you." Hashirama smiles, too. 

"I really was. And if it's you, I think I'll continue to be." He looks straight into Madara's eyes and for the first time in eight years he senses only the calming water. 

_Or maybe you are simply in love_ , the wind whispers and Hashirama stops in his tracks. It's a dangerous thought, one that he shouldn't give much attention. But the calm water turns into wild waves that just want to _take,_ and Hashirama wants to let himself be taken underwater, to drown in Madara. 

And when Madara leans in, he forgets all about the Uchiha and Senju, about the battle and who hurt Madara, and all he can think of is the wind from years before that told him Madara's the one. And it suddenly makes perfect sense that Madara was picked by the water spirit. Trees need water to survive, just like he needs Madara. 

But water doesn't need trees, so when Madara changes into a log as soon as they break apart, Hashirama is not at all surprised. And yet, his heart still feels as if it got destroyed and left to slowly disappear, just like cyclamen slowly rots away because of the merciless disease caused by hungry parasites (and Hashirama has seen it many times, his mother was never good with flowers). 

And just then he remembers the same wind telling him that getting close to Madara will be hard.

* * *

The fourth time the forest calls for him, Hashirama is twenty four and nothing goes as planned. 

When Madara gives him an ultimatum in order to achieve peace, Hashirama knows what to do without even thinking. He sheds off his armour and makes sure to instruct his clan on what to do after he's gone. He hopes it will really put an end to the battles. 

_That's foolish thinking,_ the wind blows right into his face. It doesn't sound as comforting as it always does. 

He picks up his kunai anyway, and sends Madara the last smile. He puts all of his feelings into it and hopes Madara will understand. That he won't beat himself up for it. _Water_ _doesn't need trees. If_ he dies, Madara will be able to start over. Hashirama wouldn't be able to do so. There's still hope for him to be happy. 

He thinks of a blow that will be fast and least painful, and when he finally finds it, he reaches out his hand and shuts his eyes. 

But the blade doesn't pierce his skin. Instead, it pierces Tobirama who's thrown himself right in front of him. 

His brother falls down, still. Hashirama can _feel_ him getting cold. Everything goes silent, and even Madara looks shocked. Hashirama falls to his knees and raises a shaking hand to touch Tobirama's face. He doesn't dare cry; his brother would think of it as Hashirama disrespecting his honor. He did it for peace, after all. But it's still his only brother, the one war hasn't taken from him. The one _he_ was supposed to protect at all costs. 

But he's not the only one. Madara lost his brother just minutes ago, and by Tobirama's sword, as well. Maybe it's some kind of repayment. He wipes off the blood from Tobirama's cheek and stands up. His father's training to not show his emotions is finally paying off. He can mourn after that, alone. 

"With the sacrifices of Uchiha Izuna and Senju Tobirama, the conflict between the two clans ends today. With tomorrow, a new era of peace comes." His voice echoes through the battlefield, and no one seems to disagree even slightly. 

And so it came, in the form of a village he and Madara dreamed about, with no siblings to keep safe. But Madara is enough, has always been enough. If Hashirama can see him safe, enjoying a life with no dangers to come, and can see him smile almost everyday, it's better than any other reality he could think of. 

And that's truly fine, but Hashirama wishes Madara could address some things (and by that he means kissing Hashirama out of nowhere after Hashirama realized he's in love with him and disappearing). And if he could address them _soon,_ before Toka goes forth with her plan to unite Konoha and the Uzumaki clan with him as the lead role, it would be nice. 

But Madara was never good at talking about his feelings, and before he can blink, Hashirama is supposed to marry the most promising daughter of the Uzumaki clan's leader. He can't help but feel frustrated. The village was supposed to be something he and _Madara_ watched over, and if Toka _really_ wanted a union, she could've married someone from the Uzumaki herself.

He's acting like a child,putting his feelings before the village. _No_ _._ He's not his father, he's allowed to voice his emotions. There's a storm going on in his mind, and he needs to take a break. And, like always, his feet carry him to one place where he can be alone. The forest seems out of place for the whole way, too, as if it was for once depending on his mood. But even with roots growing out in front of him and the path trying to change its course, he arrives at the river. 

Madara is there. The storm in Hashirama's mind calms down immediately. It's like everything disappears when it's only two of them, like the river is their own small universe with place only for two people in it. 

He sits down and looks at the water. "Toka is meeting up with the Uzumaki clan today," he says trying to sound indifferent. But Madara tenses up. 

"Are you really going to marry that girl?" he asks, and Hashirama hears something _different_ in his voice. 

_Jealousy._ The wind keeps on giving him dangerous ideas. Hashirama desperately wants to believe they're true. 

"Probably, if she doesn't find any other candidate. And I believe Toka is going to make sure she doesn't." Madara nods. 

"I think the clan doesn't trust me." Madara almost spits the words out. "They're whispering behind my back." 

"Do you think they're going to change the leader?" Hashirama throws a rock. it skips four times, then disappears into the water. He flinches. 

"If I don't meet their expectations, probably. And I won't, because they don't _talk_ to me." 

Madara closes his eyes and sighs. Hashirama turns to see him and notes how _tired_ he looks. He wishes they could just stay here forever, both of them and the river, for the rest of their lives. "This really isn't the village we dreamed of, is it?" The words leave his mouth faster than he can rethink them, a reoccurring problem whenever he's with Madara. He hopes Madara will say he's wrong, will make him feel like it all still makes sense. 

But Madara is merciless. "No, it isn't." And then, something that makes Hashirama's soul want to leave his body. "Because it was supposed to be _our_ village, not anyone else's." Hashirama knows it's now or never. 

"Back then when you— When I healed you—"

"I meant it," Madara says, his voice stable and the look he gives him right after dead serious. "And if i could ask for one thing," Hashirama straightens up. He would give madara the world if he asked. "then it would be for you not to marry Uzumaki Mito." And he's ready to run off and cancel the meeting, to tell Toka there's someone else already waiting for him, someone who he's meant to be with. Again, Madara is full of surprises. "But it would be too selfish of me. So, instead, just be happy with her. Forget me." The last sentence comes out as a whisper. Hashirama's heart breaks. 

He turns his whole body towards Madara and takes his hand. "Madara." He waits until he's looking straight into his eyes. "I would give you every star you could see in the night sky if you asked. I would convince people to build shrines for you if that was what you wanted. I would give up the village for you. But forgetting you and being happy with someone else is something I could never do, no matter how much you pleaded."

"This is the only way you can guarantee Konoha's future." 

"If that is true, then the village was never meant to exist," Hashirama insists. "And I will put you before anything else, always." 

"Hashirama." Madara puts a hand on his cheek and smiles, but it doesn't quite reach his eyes. "You really _are_ naive." It makes him think of that time, four years ago. And even if Madara isn't bleeding this time, it still feels like he just got gravely hurt. "And you change your mind drastically. Now you say the village doesn't matter, but where is Hashirama that fought for it to exist all his life?"

Hashirama wants to say _more,_ wants to talk his heart out until Madara is sick of his voice, but Toka is calling his name from somewhere near. The Uzumaki clan has arrived. "Go." Madara drops his hand. 

_Don't go_ , the forest says. _It's_ _not the voice you always follow._

But he gets up anyway, and tries to smile, but Madara's seen behind his mask. He mouths _be happy_ and then disappears with a splash of water. 

_It's for the village,_ Hashirama thinks as he's walking towards his cousin, sweetpeas growing around him. For the hope that no one will have to suffer like they did ever again.

* * *

The fifth time, Hashirama is twenty six and doesn't listen at all. 

He's known about Madara's plans, but he's never thought he'd bring _the Nine Tails._ It calls for a confrontation; the animal has not done anything to be used as a weapon. So he goes, spirits guiding him, giving him strength. 

And the man he tries to reason with is not Madara anymore. There is no hint of the fondness he once showed. The water seems to be gone completely, replaced by a very dangerous fire. He speaks in a manner so _different_ from madara, and even his fighting style has changed. The forest helps him, gives him more power than it ever could, and Hashirama thanks it at the back of his mind. 

But at one point, it's just them, no chakra fueled weapons, armours long destroyed. Whenever they charge in, hashirama feels like he's twelve again and they're sparring. Ge doesn't want to hurt Madara. _Fire destroys trees_. Madara is still set on killing him. 

He dodges a hit and falls back, only then realizing why it all feels so familiar. They're in their own small universe, standing right in the middle of the river. Where it all began, and where it will all end. Hashirama can think of only one solution. 

_No,_ the wind screeches. _This is not what is planned for you._

But Hashirama ignores it. Fate doesn't matter if it wants to separate them. _Trees need water._

Before Madara can react, and before he can change his mind, he uses the last remaining mass of chakra he has, and forms a sharp, wooden sword from the nearest branch. It's not as good as his original one, but it got broken in half somewhere mid battle. 

It takes all his willpower to land the fatal blow. Somewhere deep in his heart, he apologizes to mito and the child he will never be able to meet. 

"Hashirama, what did—" Madara starts coughing up blood, and it pains Hashirama more than his wound. This isn't how they were supposed to end. He manages to crawl closer, finds Madara's hand with his own. 

"If it has to end this way, then I refuse to be left here without you." Madara starts to whisper something about healing, but it all merges into a buzz. Hashirama smiles weakly. "I'm sorry we didn't skip rocks together again, in the end." He hopes that whatever afterlife awaits him, Madara will be there, waiting for him. 

Last thing he knows are tears in Madara's eyes, his hand going limp, and the words he should've said years ago whispered into the water. The wind was right, it really wasn't easy, loving Madara. 

And as primroses tainted with blood bloom all over the place, the wind gathering storm clouds, the sword turns back into a shriveled branch. The forest always takes back the power it once lent.

* * *

Senju Tsunade has heard the forest calling her name several times throughout her life. She's never followed it, the stone statue of her grandfather being a reminder how the spirit-granted godhood ruins the one chosen. The Third Hokage can't go down the same way the first did and leave Dan suffering just like her grandmother was. She's seen how much she went through, and how she still managed to remain a noble, sophisticated woman that raised her mother and was aunt Toka's — the Second Hokage's — trusted advisor. So Tsunade never goes near the forest, and stays inside on every windy day until it stops calling her. 

And when she thinks it finally calmed down and gave up on making more godlike people, a word reaches the Hokage Tower that a boy named Uchiha Sasuke has manifested the wood style, after it being considered a lost bloodline limit. 

_Every few generations, spirits will pick a human worthy of their power._ Her grandmother's words echo through her mind. _But_ _whoever they pick will have to pay a price greater than they could ever imagine._

She just hopes there won't be need for another pair of stone statues placed in a river, as she gets up to pay a visit in the Uchiha compound. 

**Author's Note:**

> you can pinpoint exactly where i spiralled from "hashirama has a deep connection to the woods" to "[clenches fist] hashimada".


End file.
